


Everyone Blooms in Their Own Time

by Last_Rhodeo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A Singular Instance of the Scots Dialect, Autism, Autistic Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Childhood Friends, Close 3rd Narration, Coming Out, Echolalia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fencing, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Pining, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Sylvain is Initially an Asshole, Verging on Literary Realism, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Rhodeo/pseuds/Last_Rhodeo
Summary: Sylvain finds himself making questionable choices after a particularly rousing fencing match with Felix. Maybe he’s ready to be honest with himself. More likely though, he’s ready to make a complete ass of himself.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

Nightfall rapidly approaches Garreg Mach Monastery. The harsh orange radiance of the setting sun glances off the long, high windows of the Monastery’s Central Building and casts sharp beams of light into the otherwise empty courtyard where two students run hurriedly—laughing, clumsy, and breathlessly—with their sweaty hands interlocked together. The taller one, a young man with dark auburn hair, pulls the other under the shadowy portico that connects the monastery classrooms to the reception hall—pressing the lithe body against the vine-covered wall before him. 

Sylvain, the lad, thinks himself just tall and broad enough to obscure the other, now hungrily fisting the collar of his uniform shirt, from any passerby. Satisfied they are sufficiently hidden, he places his arms on the wall above the other’s head, boxing her in. The girl is pretty enough, he muses, she is about the right height with an athlete’s lean build. Her facial features, however, are soft and round, and her eyes—though piercing and sharp, are blue. The hair though, the hair is absolutely correct in its length, silky smoothness, and inky blue-black hue. 

Sylvain has actively forgotten her name, willing it away from his mind the moment he pushed her against the wall. He barely wants to think of her at all, let alone speak her name. No, Sylvain doesn’t want this girl; he wants only the illusion she can provide him. The truth of this moment disgusts him, he admits to himself if only for an instant—he knows this is worse than his usual behavior. Poor, desperate boy that Sylvain fancies himself, he lies, bitterly, in his head— _I_ _can’t help it_ —he’s already taking out the long metallic pin that held her sable locks in a high bun. 

He’s mesmerized by the way it cascades down her neck like water. _Goddess_ , he loves that dark river and imagines himself pressing soft kisses into every rippling strand. Sylvain cards his hands through the pieces that frame her face, tucking them gently behind her ears. “Your hair is so soft,” he sighs into her neck, “you should let me braid it.” 

The girl laughs, her hot breath brushing his ear. “Right now?” she asks drawing at a long “o” and barely pronouncing the “w," cocking her head and leaning back into the corridor wall to look at him properly. The girl had a thick accent to behind with, but since her third drink of the evening, she fell into a full-fledged Albinean dialect. Sylvain knows she hails from the coast in Nuvelle territory within the Adrestian Empire where the Albins is spoken commonly. He was already well familiarized with this dialect from his classmate, Constance, who occasionally falls into it when she’s overly excited. “Are ye off yer heid? Ye havered on quite a bit makin’ brilliant promises.” She gently slots her thigh between Sylvain’s legs, “Dinnae want tae focus on this?” she smirks as she presses more firmly into his growing erection. “Some’hin’ about pu’in’ the cart fore the horse?” 

Sylvain likes that—how she is being a little mean—so he laughs and moves her thigh out of the way so he can hitch her legs around his torso. Predictably, she gasps as he lifts her up and squeezes him like a vice between her legs. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten a single thing miting,” he promises between nips at her neck. 

“Wha’re ye callin’ mite? Yer the wan bitin’ ma neck, ye pest!” She almost sounds indigent, but Sylvain doesn’t let that deter him. In fact, it spurs him on. 

“Ah, but remember earlier when I let you kiss me? Someone was a little over-eager. You bit my lip hard enough to draw blood,” Sylvain laughs, “I won’t make that mistake again.” 

“Syl—vain!” She draws his name out, pouting. “Ah promise, ah promise ah willnae dae it again! Was an accident! Kiss me now and see!” 

But he’s already covering her pleading mouth with his, stifling her sharp voice. _It’s a double-edged sword_ , her voice. Maybe if he makes her hoarse it’ll be lower? Then his name might sound better on her lips. _No, no_ , he just wants to think about this afternoon. Wasn’t that the whole point of asking this particular girl out? It would help with the illusion if the only thing he could see of her was her hair and her mouth around his cock. _Fuck._ He remembers why he doesn’t usually go for girls with long dark hair— _it’s dangerous_. But now that he’s picturing it he can’t help but think what a convincing Felix she’d make on her knees. And, _goddess_ , he wants to see that. 

“Mmm,” he pulls away. “Practice did make you better, but…” He shifts so her back is no longer flat against the wall. She huffs and slides down to a standing position. She crosses her arms and looks up at him, a bit of lust and anger clouding her eyes. “My lip’s still a little sore. Why don’t you prove just how non-mite-like your pretty mouth is, huh? And I’ll see if some better endearments come to mind.” 

He almost thinks he pushed the whole mite thing too far between the moment she’s kind of blankly looking at him and the moment she’s sinking to her knees and eagerly reaching for the clasps on his uniform’s trousers. “Aye,” she gasps, “Ah want tae hear ye—yer b-bonnie words.” Sylvain nods in agreement and carefully gathers her hair into a high ponytail. He was right— _goddess_ , he thinks, _I’m too clever—_ at this angle and with her eyes closed in a dutiful kind of reverence he can convince himself of anything. 

Sylvain sighs. He can’t help it, it’s so nice. The mouth is warm and inviting, the little hum in the throat sending delicious vibrations through him, the weight of the soft, dark hair in his hands—Sylvain completely forgets his half of the bargain. He forgets, well, because he’s thinking about something else entirely. 

Earlier that day, Felix had nearly dragged Sylvain to the training grounds. _“You owe me a match you fucking lie-about.”_ He remembers the cute way Felix’s eyes squinted up at him as he led Sylvain by the shirt collar into the dusty hall. 

“ _Fe, if you wanted to fence you could’ve just asked—I’d drop anything for you_.” 

He huffed, disbelieving. “ _You need to be shown, not told_.” Felix spat as he dropped his hand from Sylvain’s shirt. 

“ _It’s true._ _I’m a visual learner_.” 

Felix ignored him, “ _We’re using sabres. You want a bout or an assault?_ ” 

“ _Hmm, I think a bout; it’s more fun to keep score—know who the victor is_.” 

“ _Fine. Just don’t sulk when I eviscerate you_.” 

“ _A little hard to eviscerate someone with a fencing implement, Fe_.” 

“ _A sabre is meant for cutting too. Or do you just not think I can land a taille?_ ” he asked, handing Sylvain his weapon and mask. 

“ _I think you can do anything_.” Sylvain winked. 

“ _Do you think before you speak? Or is there truly nothing going on up there?_ ” But Sylvain saw Felix’s mouth curve into a delightful half-smirk the moment before he pulled his mask down. 

They moved into the piste—a fourteen meter long, two-meter wide area marked out by parallel lines chalked onto the dirt floor of the training area. “ _Careful, foul words don’t add to your point tally, Fe._ ” 

He couldn’t see it, but Sylvain would have bet anything that Felix rolled his eyes. “ _En-garde. Pret._ A _llez!_ ” 

Felix always looks beautiful when he fences, even with a mask obscuring his angular features. _No, his beauty comes from the way he moves_ —Sylvain thought— _the way his body seems more liquid than solid, the way he flawlessly strikes his opponent without hesitation_. Sabre is fast and simple. It’s about flow, instinct, precision. It’s easier to attack than to defend, _which suits him perfectly_.

For once, Sylvain began the match with a point by making a straight attack. “ _Off your game there Felix?_ ” As Felix had bounced a leg across the center line—leaving his arms low and vulnerable—Sylvain lunged toward him, aiming for the soft curve of his side. Nearly simultaneously, Felix raised his sabre arm to parry the attack, but it was too late—Sylvain felt the tip of his curved sword press into Felix’s torso. 

“ _Tsk_ ,” he hissed, turning sharply around and back to the en-garde line, “ _That’s not going to work again_.” 

He’s right of course. Sylvain goes for the straight attack again, but Felix parry-ripostes—blocking and then flawlessly cutting Sylvain’s arm on a downward swing. 

The next seven points went on much the same— _Felix is just too quick_. Not to mention swords are his specialty. Sylvain thinks he should get points for keeping himself from literally drooling over Felix— _forget touches_. Unfortunately, that is not how fencing works. He only gets points for landing an estoc or a taille on Felix’s torso, arms, and head. And only if he can keep initiative when he does it. _It’s not too late_ , Sylvain thought; he could turn this match around. 

Parry-riposte, straight attack, counterattack, parry-riposte against remise. It’s hard to keep track of everything without a referee, but Sylvain manages to land touches on Felix—eventually bringing their score to ten-ten. _Just five points left in the game_. “ _Guess I’m a good match for you after all, huh Fe?_ ” Sylvain lifts his mask, catching his breath. 

“ _You’re good when you’re trying. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother with you_.” Felix threw his mask to the dirt. His face was flushed, his bun falling out and stray hairs sticking flatly around his head with sweat. 

“ _Careful Fe, I might get the impression you like me._ ” Sylvain dropped his mask outside the piste. 

“ _Fuck off Syl,_ ” he huffed, narrowing his eyes and readying his sabre.“ _Let’s finish this._ ” 

This was it—the moment Sylvain wanted to replay over and over again. Felix making an elegant flèche at him, arm extended in attack as his back foot-propelled him forward, an embarrassed blush spreading across his features while Sylvain made his simultaneous attack. Attack on preparation, it’s called, when both fencers attack at the start. The touch is given to the fencers who extended their arm first—in this case, Sylvain, as they pressed their sabres into each other. 

“ _Argh!_ ” Felix exclaimed in exasperation as he flung both of his arms down in a defiant display of frustration. His hands balled into angry fists, sweat dripping from his hairline. _Goddess, he is beautiful_. 

“ _That move would get you a card if this were a real match,_ ” Sylvain said, in disbelief. “ _Flèche is illegal_.” 

“ _It was an accident!_ ” Felix bit his lip as he turned back to Sylvain. “ _You were making a weird face,_ ” he admitted quietly. 

“ _Uh-huh, guess you need me to put the mask back on so you don’t get distracted with your footwork?_ ” 

“Syl—vain!” 

The girl abruptly pulls off and digs her nails deep enough into his thighs to break the skin, making him completely lose his train of thought. “Fuck, what baby?” 

“Ye werenae sayin’ anythin’!” She whines, “Ye promised.” She’s looking up at him with sad eyes; all the fire from before seemingly extinguished. It’s a bummer if he’s honest. He didn’t mean to make her feel bad. 

“Aww baby,” he stutters to think of a good excuse, “guess you’re just too talented—you left me speechless?” Sylvain hadn’t meant to use the interrogative tone. 

In a flash, the sadness in her face is gone. The girl is standing up again. “Ye fuckin’ bastard! Were ye even thinkin’ about me? About whit ah wus daein’?” She grips the lapel of his open uniform jacket. 

“O-of course I was, baby?” Sylvain takes a step back from the girl, raising his right arm to the back of his head and looking to the side. 

“Uh-huh. I bet ye wus thinkin’ about wan of yer o’her wummin. Well I’m no some play’hing ye can—“

“Wah?” He interrupts her, “W-who else could I be thinking of when you were showing me just how good you can use those sweet mite mouthparts of yours?” 

“What?” The girl’s voice is pricing, shrill, boarding on manic. 

And maybe Sylvain wanted to get decked. Maybe he deserved it for using this girl and for thinking about his best friend while doing it. _Yeah_ , he decides as her fist connects with the side of his jaw, _I fucking deserve this_. 

~

The girl is gone. His mouth is still a little bloody, so he spits into the grass as he passes the Black Eagles classroom. He’s pissed. At himself mostly, that and he didn’t get to finish reliving the best part of his afternoon fencing match. Felix was definitely embarrassed. _And flustered!_ In the final touch, he had actually tripped backward. Sylvain couldn’t believe how adorable Felix was when he got frustrated. _Ah well_ , he muses, _when I get back to my room I still have my hand_.

Then, the heavy metal doors to the training grounds open— _they would, wouldn’t they?_ —as he steps onto the stone path leading back to the dorms. And who should emerge from them, but Felix?

Sylvain pauses outside the sliver of light that cuts between the doors to the training grounds. He knows in the dark it will be harder for Felix to see his swollen face. Felix looks at him, pausing to keep one of the doors open.“Oh, Sylvain, headed back already? Shouldn’t you be out philandering at this hour?” His tone sounds meaner than it normally does, but maybe Sylvain is just feeling sensitive. 

“Felix! Good to see you too. And you’re finished training? The sun’s barely set. Had you pegged for a hard worker, not a slacker like me.” 

“Okay,” Felix looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks, “so we’re both displaying some unusual behavior.” 

_Huh, that’s odd,_ Sylvain thinks as he watches Felix worry his fingers together and look toward the ground, _why is he blushing?_ “Seriously though—what’s up? Should I be concerned? Has the real Felix been replaced by some kind of imposter?” Sylvain teases. 

“Fuck off Syl,” Felix turns to look toward him, “I’m fine. It’s just,” the blush deepens and stretches to his ears, “Professor Byleth said I was ‘too distracted’ to continue training right now. He’s still in there with Lysithea and Dorothea.” He gestures with his head to the interior of the training hall. 

“Oh, um…” Sylvain feels something ugly twist in his gut— _jealousy_ , he affirms—as he analyzes Felix’s embarrassed flush, ”why them?” _Does Felix have a crush on Lysithea? Dorothea? Professor Byleth? All of them? Fuck._ His thoughts race to every conclusion, spiraling into a nightmarish collage of images—he feels dizzy. 

Felix shifts out between the doors, letting the warm light from the training hall disappear behind him. “He said something about how we all would be training in swords, plus reason and faith magic together.” Felix steps closer to where Sylvain is standing, and scrunches his nose and eyes in concentration, “He wants you to train with us too for magic stuff apparently, I was supposed to tell you, but—Hey Sylvain?” 

Sylvain instinctively steps back and nearly trips as Felix enters his personal space, “Y-yeah?” 

“What happened to your face?” Felix reaches out to softly ghost his fingers toward Sylvain’s swollen and quickly darkening jaw. 

“Would you believe someone punched me?” He says after a beat. 

“ _Someone_?” Felix’s left eyebrow arches incredulously, as he draws his hand back to his side. 

“Yeah—a girl—I, um, totally deserved it though.” 

Felix nods and lets out a sigh, “That sounds about right. I guess that’s why I couldn’t find you after we fenced this afternoon.” 

“Yep.” Sylvain draws the vowel out, then harshly enunciates the ‘p’ with a pop. He honestly wants to punch himself. If he had just masturbated in his room, _like a normal fucking person_ , he could have spent the evening with Felix. And he would have saved that girl the misfortune of hooking up with him. _I really need to get my shit together_. 

“Uh,” Felix awkwardly puts his hand on Sylvain’s shoulder, “you wanna talk about it?” It sounds as sincere as it possibly can coming from Felix. He loathes hearing Sylvain’s conquest stories, after all. 

Sylvain groans, “Let’s just say you weren’t the only one having performance issues this evening.” 

“Yeah,” Felix laughs, “I definitely don’t want to hear about your ‘performance issues’. That’s above my pay grade, even as your best friend.” 

“Hey! I was just distracted, okay? And she noticed and got really offended.” 

“Uh-huh,” Felix lets his hand drop and starts to walk toward the stairs that lead up to the sauna. 

“I’m serious. She accused me of thinking about someone else, and when I didn’t deny it, she decked me.” Sylvain sprints to catch up with him, side-stepping in front of Felix to block his path forward. “Plus I kept calling her a mite and referred to her human lips as ‘mouth-parts’ like she was a literal insect.” 

“Oof,” Felix squints and puts his hand to his brow before looking up as they pause on the staircase. “Not your best work. You definitely deserved it.” He leans into the stone wall. “So she was right then? Why didn’t you just hook up with the person you wanted to?” He crosses his arms over his chest and smiles, “Could’ve saved you both a lot of trouble. Not to mention your face situation.” 

Sylvain crosses his arms right back at him, “Believe it or not Fraldarius, I can’t pick up _everyone_ I want.” 

Felix’s smile turns into a smirk, “What happened to your cocky, over-confident outlook? Are you the _real_ Sylvain?” 

Sylvain shrugs.“Sometimes I think its better to just…hook up with someone I don’t care about than to actually try to for something real. I don’t want to be disappointed when they realize they only like my crest.” 

“Syl,” Felix is no longer smiling. He uncrosses his arms and places a hand on Sylvain’s elbow. “What are you saying? I know you’re not actually a fucking idiot.” 

“What?” 

“You think you’re going to find someone who actually cares about you beyond what the Gautier crest could do for them by dicking around? You’re that self-sabotaging? To the point you’ll actively ignore someone you’re sincerely interested in?” 

“Uh,” Sylvain blinks and shakes his head. 

“It’s one thing if you’re having fun or whatever with these girls, but, like, don’t needless cause them _and yourself_ more heartbreak. People aren’t playthings, Sylvain.” Felix’s use of “playthings” echoes in Sylvain’s head as he recalls the girl earlier had used those exact words to call him out. 

“I-I know that! Goddess,” Sylvain uncrosses his arms, “I know it was really dumb, okay? I regret what I did to her. It was a mistake. I don’t want to do anything like that even again—using someone like that feels wrong. It’s…” 

“Disgusting?” Felix supplies. 

“Disgusting,” Sylvain nods in acknowledgment. 

They stand in silence for a moment, Sylvain unable to meet Felix’s eyes. He’s so ashamed of himself, he wants to shrink into the dark and become nothing. And now Felix really knows what a terrible ass he is. _Barely human_ , he thinks, _monstrous even_. 

Then, like some kind of miracle, Felix reaches out to him—touching his upper arm fondly. “And just so we’re clear. What you did was gross and bad, right? But that doesn’t make you bad. Okay? You’re a nice person underneath all your issues.” Sylvain looks back at Felix, dragging his eyes from the ground to meet his. Felix looks so fierce and sure as he says, “Just have to make better choices, Syl.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain affirms quietly. 

Felix pats his arm softly, “Good talk,” and begins to push past him on the staircase. “You wanna take a steam too? Or were you just walking me to my destination?” 

Sylvain considers it, “Um. I wasn’t going to, but the sauna does sound nice right now.” He follows Felix up the stairs. “Thanks, Fe.” 

Felix doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking toward the stone structure before them, “Anytime, Syl.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Sylvain is only slightly regretting his choice to join Felix in the sauna. He wanted to keep hanging out with him, even if it meant spending most of that time trying to keep himself from thinking anything inappropriate or worse— _saying anything too weird_. You have to wear gym clothes in the sauna, so it’s not like he has to work to keep his eyes off of things he shouldn’t be gawking at. _It just_ —Sylvain has a particular weakness for sweaty, flushed, messy-haired Felix. 

As a bonus, they were alone—too late for most students to be using the sauna and too early for the particularly hard workers to be finished with evening training sessions. Being alone meant they could actually talk without being rude to others, _which is nice_ , Sylvain admitted to himself. Not that they were talking at the moment. Felix is just leaning back a little into the wood paneling with his eyes closed and mouth slightly parted. _Cute_. He still hadn’t figured out what was wrong with Felix that made Professor Byleth kick him out of training. _Fuck, I’m a bad friend_. 

“Hey, uh, Felix?” 

“Mmm?” 

“So, why did Professor Byleth make you leave training early?” 

“Huh?” Felix turned to look at Sylvain, an exasperated look painting his face, “I told you already. I was distracted.” He swivels his head to look at the ceiling, “I kept making stupid mistakes. That’s all…” 

“Okay. But like, what was bothering you?” 

“Sylvain.” 

“What? You were just an excellent listener! Let me be a good one in return.” 

Felix rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Before Sylvain can push him further he says, “Who did you wish you were hooking up with? Anyone I know?” 

“Uh,” Sylvain sputters. 

“I’m just curious who’s finally managed to capture your attention.” Felix closes his eyes, leaving his chin lifted. Sylvain gulps as he lets his eyes follow the length of his neck, the sharp angle of his jaw. He really wishes he hadn’t got punched in the face earlier—then maybe Felix would want to look at him instead of the inside of his eyelids. “Tell me what she looks like, at least.” 

_I can do that_ , he thinks, _I could do that without making it too weird_. But then he remembers that he would basically be describing the girl he had just hooked up with, and then that would be worse. _What if I tell the truth? Just a little bit of the truth_ , he wonders. 

“Sylvain? Do you really want to keep it a secret?” Felix opens one eye, which sifts toward him but keeps his head lifted to the ceiling. 

“No,” Sylvain says at last, “It’s just, uh, they’re not…they’re not…” He’s not sure he can say it—he’s not sure he can say anything. 

“I’m not going to judge you, Syl, I’ve got like…zero opinion on girls.” Felix sighs, “It’s okay if you’re not ready.” 

“They’re not a girl,” Sylvain blurts out. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

Sylvain is looking down at his hands so he doesn’t see that Felix is shuffling across the wooden bench to sit closer to him. “Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And it doesn’t change my opinion of you. I think you’re…uh…excellent. And that’s regardless of who you want to be with. But I do see why you didn’t feel like you could ask the person now.”

“I can’t exactly ask him out with the way my dad is.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain looks up at Felix and moves to tilt his head onto the other’s shoulder. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“For being so good to me—” 

“Shut up,” Felix sputters, “you’re my best friend. Of course I’m gonna be nice to you…sometimes! At least!”

Sylvain shifts so he can see Felix’s face. It’s flushed, maybe a little more than it should be from the sauna alone. “I’m sorry I should have asked—is it still okay to put my head on your shoulder?” 

Felix turns his face toward the other wall, but Sylvain can see that a blush is spreading wide on his face, neck, and ears. “I told you, nothing has changed! You know the drill. It’s okay, so long as no one else is looking.” 

“Of course,” Sylvain says as he settles back into Felix’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t want people to find out how nice you can be.” 

“I have an image to uphold.” 

“Mmm.” 

They stay like that for a while, until Felix eventually finds Sylvain’s closeness intolerable and shifts him gently away. “Um, we should head back to the dorms soon,” Felix says softly. 

“Yeah, the sauna will be crawling with the usual night owls. And Professor Byleth always makes it way too hot in here.” 

“Mm-hmm, he does that.” Felix makes no effort to get up and instead anxiously hugs himself with one arm. “Before we head out though, uh, can I ask you something else?”

“You can ask me whatever, Fe.” 

Felix stands up, wringing his hands together awkwardly, “If, if your dad weren't such a fucking ass, would you ask him out?” 

“What?”

“The guy you like—would you ask him out properly if it weren’t for your dad?” 

“Um, well, I’d want to make sure he liked me first,” Sylvain replies bewildered. 

Felix shifts into an even antsier looking pose, which Sylvain thinks should have been impossible, “Okay, uh, assuming he did like you back. Would you ask him out? Like as your proper boyfriend?” 

“Uh—yes?” 

“Okay,” Felix takes a long breath, and finally seems to settle a bit. “Let’s head back now.” 

“Sure?” 

~

They don’t often walk with matching strides because even though Sylvain is a good head taller than him, Felix walks with purpose. Everywhere. Fast. But tonight, Felix keeps pace will Sylvain, slower and deliberate. He doesn’t even complain or urge Sylvain to hurry up as he might on any other night. 

Sylvain turns to look at Felix, furrowing his brow, unsure as to why the other is behaving differently. The blushing, the gentle openness that had marked their conversations this evening—none of it was adding up for Sylvain. “So, are you sure we’re okay?” Sylvain asks as they reach the first level of the lower front dorms. 

“Huh? Yeah? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Cause you were acting real antsy back there. I was concerned maybe you did feel weird about me…liking a guy?” 

“What? No, uh, I just wanted to know how serious you were about him.” 

“Well, I’m serious.” 

“I got that.” 

“Deadly serious—” 

“Is that joke?” Felix stutters through his question and grabs Sylvain’s wrist, bringing them to a halt. Sylvain knows Felix has issues with tone—mostly knowing if something is sarcastic or not, but he doesn’t usually get angry—at least not at him. 

“Uh, it’s kind of a joke, I guess? I was trying to lighten the mood.” Felix still isn’t looking at him and hasn’t let go of his arm. _Fuck_. “It’s, it’s not really a joke, Fe. I do really like him, I wouldn’t lie to you about this kind of thing.” 

Felix nods, still averting his gaze. “Try not to lie to me at all,” he says softly. 

“Fe,” Sylvain pleads. “Please tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

He shakes his head. “Can’t. It’s too much for today.” 

“Whatever it is, it cannot be too much for me. Not if it’s about you.” 

“Don’t want to be selfish.” 

“It’s not selfish. I specifically asked you about it. Twice!” 

Felix finally looks toward Sylvain’s face. “I was distracted in training today because of our fencing match.” 

“Oh.” 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. You said that we were a ‘good match’? I know you meant us being good fencing partners, but I was thinking about all the ways it was true. Like on the battlefield and doing class projects and stuff.” 

“Fe…” Sylvain’s voice is tender, “that’s fucking adorable.”

“Don’t make it weirder or sappier than it is.” 

“I’m not. I just think it’s a really sweet sentiment. Don’t see how it could have distracted you so much though?” 

Felix shrugs and begins to pull Sylvain down the staircase, continuing their walk back to their dorm building. “It’s hard to be the necessary amount of aggressive when I’m feeling so sentimental.” 

“Ah. Okay.” Sylvain looks around quickly as they arrive at the corridor in front of the greenhouse that leads to their dormitory. The campus is quiet where there, the only sounds are their footsteps and the distant splash of the fish pond’s cycling water on the dock. He feels brave, so he shifts Felix’s grip on his arm so that they’re holding hands like they used when they were children. 

Felix says nothing as he continues to lead them to their destination, but as they reach the stairwell he turns and says, “Do you wanna talk some more before bed? Or just hang out? Also, we should probably ice your jaw.” 

“Um, sure, since we don’t have class tomorrow.” 

“Okay. I’ll meet you in your room. I’m gonna grab some ice from the dining hall.” 

“All right,” Sylvain nods, as Felix turns and walks past him toward the dining hall. Sylvain sighs heavily. He thinks he should be more forthcoming with Felix if it means he gets to spend this much quality time with him. _It’s really nice_ , he thinks, _when we can be alone together and honest. Communicative? More like when we were kids._ He’s glad Felix is in this sentimental mood, especially as it seemed lately like everything made him angry. But that’s something Sylvain likes about Felix—his bluntness and his inability to hide how he really feels. Plus he’s sure that coming to a new place, starting a new routine, and not being able to recharge from social situations was probably part of the reason Felix had been prickly. _He’s just now settled into his routine._ Felix had finally created a new life for himself at Garreg Mach. _And I’m part of his routine, and he wants me to be_. _It’s enough_ , he tells himself, _so don’t push it anymore today_.

Sylvain makes his way up the stairs and down the hall to his room. He unlocks the door, puts on a few lamps, and goes to look at his face in the small mirror behind the door. His jaw looks worse for wear, definitely, but isn’t so concerning he feels like he should have seen Manuela. Sylvain sighs and moves to sit on the edge of the bed where he can more easily undo his shoes. 

After kicking them off, Sylvain half-lays on the bed with his feet flat on the floor, stretching out his back as he waits for Felix. It’s only a couple of minutes before he comes bursting through the door without knocking. “Felix,” Sylvain says as he sits up on his bed, “what’s that thing people say? Uh…oh! Were you raised in a barn?” 

“I didn’t knock because you’re expecting me,” Felix replies, unsmiling. 

“I’m teasing you.” 

“Right.” 

Sylvain pats the bed. 

“This is the ice,” he says, lifting his right hand where he holds a grey cloth bundle presumably filled with ice. 

“Thanks. You wanna hold it for me?” Sylvain asks, overdoing his teasing tone. Felix walks over to the bed, his face still completely blank, and unceremoniously presses the damp cloth onto Sylvain’s jaw. “Ah! Fuck that’s cold.” 

“You asked for this.” 

“Here,” Sylvain moves his hand over Felix’s, “you don’t actually have to hold it for me. I know your fingers are cold sensitive.” 

“Shut up,” Felix huffs as he draws his hand back, but he sits on Sylvain’s bed. “Does it still hurt a lot?” 

“It hurts.” Sylvain smiles, “But not bad enough that we need to be worried.” 

“Good.” 

“So, the Professor wants us to train in magic together?” Sylvain says after a long moment of companionable silence.

“Oh, yeah, um, he said that we’ve got some ‘hidden talent’—his words—and that he wants us to take advantage of. Ignatz too, um, he’s also going to be training with us, but he had some _legitimate_ obligation to attend to today.” 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“And you’ve got the bruised face to prove it.” 

“I mean it, Fe, I need to get my shit together.” Sylvain sighs and looks down, noticing how Felix’s legs bounce as they dangle off the bedside. “I’m going to stop using girls, women, people, whatever, _like that_. You are right—there’s no point in hurting people just because I’m mad about my personal situation. I shouldn’t take it out on them.” 

Sylvain looks back up at Felix, who gives him a soft smile. “That’s really good Sylvain; I—I know that we live in a fucked up world and it’s been particularly unkind to you, but I have to believe that things can change. That’s why we joined Professor Byleth’s class, that’s why we’re forging alliances and friendships beyond the Blue Lions House.” 

“Yeah, I want to believe in a better world too.” Sylvain lays back down to stare at the ceiling. The ice inside the grey cloth is mostly liquid now, but the cool fabric feels nice on his swollen jaw. “So much has happened this year. And with the Professor’s help, I think we might really grow into people who can change Fódlan for the better.”

Felix turns his head to look at him. Sylvain can’t help the small flutter in his stomach as he notices Felix’s features illuminated beautifully in the dim lamplight. “He really has brought all of us together, huh? Our class is huge.” 

“Ha, yeah, it’s like who isn’t in our class?” 

“Edelgard, Hubert…” Felix begins listing, pressing one pointer finger into the other. 

“Okay, okay, it was a rhetorical question!”Sylvain playfully throws his makeshift ice pack at Felix. 

“Still.” Felix catches the now damp rag, “Do you want me to get more ice?” 

“No,” Sylvain says, turning to prop himself up on his side. “Let me brush your hair.” 

Felix squints and wrinkles his nose. “Okay. I’ll go get my comb.” 

“I have a comb, Fe.” 

“Yeah. And that’s your comb.” 

“Okay,” Sylvain laughs. 

“I’ll be right back,” Felix says as he stands. 

As soon as the door closes behind him, Sylvain moves his hands over his face and lets out a tiny whine. _Fuck_. He’s so happy right now, the shadow of his guilt from earlier seems like a passing cloud compared to how well his evening has unfolded. It’s been literal years since he’s got to play with Felix’s hair, let alone comb it for him. 

True to his word, Felix returns, no longer in his school clothes, but in his loose nightshirt and trousers, carrying an ornately carved wooden comb and a small glass bowl, “What’s that for?” Sylvain asks, pointing to the container. 

“It’s for my hairpins,” Felix replies, handing the comb to Sylvain. Then he moves to set the bowl on the edge of Sylvain’s desk closest to the mirror behind the door. He turns around to the mirror and begins to pull thin metallic pins from his bun. Sylvain watches him, transfixed, as one by one Felix gingerly places the pins into the bowl. When he’s finished taking his hair down, he turns back to Sylvain. “Okay.” 

Sylvain nods, stands, and walks over to where Felix stands by the door. “Do you wanna stand? Or you could sit at my desk, or?” 

“I usually stand,” he says, turning to face the mirror. 

When Sylvain moves behind him, he catches Felix’s eye in the reflection. He looks a little nervous, which Sylvain puts down to routine disruption. “You okay, Fe? I’ll be really careful not to pull on your scalp.” 

“I know.” Felix replies simply, “You’ve always been really gentle with my hair.” 

“Okay, well, thanks for letting me.”

Felix nods and shifts his eyes to one of the flickering lamps.

Sylvain takes a deep breath before he begins to carefully comb Felix’s hair. It’s a little gross from training and then the sauna, _sure, but it’s Felix’s hair after all—_ so it’s completely perfect. He’s struck by the contrast between how he began his evening and how it was ending. Marie’s hair—that was the girl’s name, he remembers now—was freshly washed, soft from whatever care ritual she diligently adheres to, keeping it glossy and untangled. And even though it was irrefutably lovely hair, handling hers couldn’t compare to the way combing Felix’s makes him feel. 

He’s so completely enraptured by his task, Sylvain barely register’s Felix’s voice.“Uh, Syl?” 

“Huh?” 

“Um, can we talk a bit more?”

“Yeah, Fe, what did ya want to talk about?” Sylvain flickers his glance up to the mirror where he sees Felix watching him, a small blush touching his cheeks.

“I just have a few more questions about the guy, and then I promise I’ll drop it.” 

“Sure, I guess,” Sylvain falters. _Should I have told him the guy thing?_ “Why are you so curious about this? You normally don’t care at all about the people I’ve dated and whatnot.” 

“That’s different,” Felix says, “you actually like this person.” 

“Mmm.” 

“So it’s okay for me to ask a few more questions?” 

“How ‘bout you ask ‘em, and I’ll answer ‘em if I feel comfortable?” Sylvain replies as he draws the comb through Felix’s tresses. 

“Fair.” Felix chews his lip. “How long have you known him?”

“Um,” Sylvain squints in pretend concentration, “quite a while.” 

“How long is ‘quite a while’?” 

“A good amount of time, Fe.” Sylvain sighs heavily, “Long enough to have worked out my feelings for him.”

“Okay.” Felix seems to accept this answer even if it’s not quantifiable. “You won’t say his name?” 

“Nope.” 

“You won’t give any hints about who he is.” 

“Um, I might be willing to give you some hints I guess?” Sylvain smirks. “But I just came out to you literally an hour ago. And I’ve never admitted it to anyone but myself before, so forgive me if I’m not as forthcoming as you’d like.” 

“Fuck. Sorry,” Felix curses and casts his gaze to the floor. He’s starting to squirm like he’s truly uncomfortable, “Not being considerate…” 

“It’s okay…I want us to still be good, Fe. So if you need to ask things, I’m willing to try to answer.” 

“It’s—it’s just—“ 

“Take your time, we don’t have to get everything out of the way right this minute.”

“It’s just—it’s just,” Felix seems stuck in his thought, unable to quite get it out. He shifts from one foot to the other a few times, stuttering. “It’s just…do you—do you?” Felix moves his hands over his face. Sylvain stops combing altogether to look at Felix’s reflection. “Do you, ugh!” 

“Fe,” Sylvain firmly taps Felix’s shoulder twice, encouraging him to turn around. He complies but doesn’t remove his hands from his face. “Why are you upset?”

“Do you like him more than me?” he half cries from underneath his hands. 

“Felix,” Sylvain pushes Felix’s arms away from his face and chest to pull him into a secure hug. “No one is ever going to mean to me what you do.” 

Felix sobs, nodding vigorously before finally collapsing into the embrace. “Is—is…” he chokes between sobs, before finally whispering, “Is he me?” 

Sylvain’s heart stutters in his chest. He feels insane, like this whole night couldn’t have been real. He pulls away from Felix enough to look at his face. Felix looks at him too, seemingly meeting his gaze. His face is bright red from crying and large teardrops are pooled on his chin. “Y-yeah—” Sylvain swallows hard, “Yeah, he is.” 

Felix pulls him back into a crushing embrace. “Thank goddess,” he breaths out.

“What?” 

“Don’t know what I’d have done Syl, don’t fucking know. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.” 

“I’m sorry if I’m being obtuse, but Fe—are you glad I don’t like someone more than you or do you, um, like me too? Th-that way?” 

“Like you.” Felix squeezes harder. 

“O-oh.” He can barely process this moment, and it seems like Felix is equally overwhelmed by his emotions. Sylvain struggles to think of a way to phrase his question in a way that Felix might be able to answer at this moment, “F-f-for a long time?” 

“Long time.” 

“Fe?” Sylvain whispers, “I wanna kiss you.” 

“Kiss,” Felix agrees in a breathy whisper, easing his grasp on Sylvain, but not pulling back. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sure,” he affirms, nodding against Sylvain’s chest. 

“I’m going to list some places and you say if it’s okay?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Top of your head?” 

“Your head,” he says eagerly before Sylvain has a chance to list anywhere else. 

Sylvain takes a deep breath and moves a hand to re-smooth the top of Felix’s hair before pressing a single, reverent kiss into his hairline. Felix has his eyes closed and moves his arms from around Sylvain to lay them on his chest, where he fists Sylvain’s uniform shirt. 

“Kiss,” he repeats. 

“Again or different?” 

Sylvain watches Felix scrunch his face again as he moves his head off of Sylvain’s chest. “Kiss different,” he says after a minute. 

Sylvain presses his hand over Felix’s hair once more, tucking the pieces on his face behind his ears. _Fuck. How do I handle this?_ “I-I want to kiss your face, your, um, your lips, rather but—“ 

“Kiss,” Felix affirms, nodding. 

“But I’m not sure now is the right time? Like today, like right now when we are both overwhelmed? I’m afraid you’ll think it was a mistake later.” 

“Right time. Right now.” Felix echoes. 

“Let’s down at least?” Sylvain says, shifts his hands down Felix’s arms to take hold of his hands. 

“Let’s sit down,” he agrees. 

Sylvain knows that echolalia is normal behavior for Felix sometimes, mostly when he’s overwhelmed or anxious. _But it could be a good kind of overwhelmed?_ Sylvain thinks, _I’ve got to find some way to help him calm down._

They move to sit on the side of the bed again. Felix is looking at his chest, which is probably the closest to eye contact he’s going to get right now. “Is there anything I can do to make the environment more comfortable for you? Is that part of it?” 

Felix looks away from Sylvain’s and toward the door and then around the room at each of the flickering laps. He shakes his head. 

“Okay.” After a beat, “I think we should talk a little more because I want you to be sure.” Sylvain sighs heavily. 

“Sure,” Felix says, unlocking their hands and bringing them into two tights fists on his lap. 

“I believe that you’re sure.” Sylvain turns so he’s sitting more on the bed and moves to shift into a crosslegged position. “I guess, I guess I just want to reaffirm to you that I am serious, but I didn’t think I would ever tell you. I was planning on suffering in silence forever and just accepting the life my parents wanted from me. I’m still not sure how long I can fight them, but if you’re there to help me then…then I guess I feel more confident about it.” 

Felix un-fists his hands and runs them over his pajama pants. 

“I—I love you, Fe. I want to be with you. Is that what you want too?” 

Felix doesn’t stop smoothing and resmoothing the loose fabric of his pants, but he nods, and returns his gaze toward Sylvain, looking somewhere past his head “Love you. Want. Want you too.” 

“Okay,” Sylvain whispers, nodding, “Okay. Yeah. Kiss?” 

“K-kiss me.” 

Sylvain reaches for Felix as Felix reaches for Sylvain— _just like a simultaneous attack,_ except neither could call who stretched for the other first. Their first kiss is sloppy, far from the precision of their earlier fencing match, it’s a tangle of limbs, teeth bumping, and awkward angles. Felix is tearing at his hair way too hard, scrambling to get as close as he possibly can. It hurts, but it doesn’t matter—to Sylvain, it feels like every moment of his life has been tumbling into this singularity, this point in time, which is collapsing in under the weight of itself and crushing him into some peaceful oblivion. 

“Sorry,” Felix says as they pull apart for breath, “n-never kissed anyone before.” 

“I literally do not think I’ve ever been happier kissing someone in my entire life.” 

“Shut up.” Felix pulls Sylvain’s face toward his again, this time with a bit more gentleness. He presses a sweet closed-mouth kiss to Sylvain’s lips, and Sylvain sighs, parting his mouth slightly, which Felix takes as a cue, as they exchange chaste kisses. 

“You’re a fast learner,” Sylvain smiles against the other’s mouth. 

“I’m a kinesthetic learner.” 

“Is that a callback?” Sylvain laughs. 

Felix doesn’t answer, except to press another kiss on Sylvain’s lips. There’s a bit more heat in this kiss, but Sylvain doesn’t want to push things too far, so he draws back again. 

“Fe, um, I don’t want to accidentally go too far right now.”

“We’re just kissing.”

“Yeah, but I’m afraid if we keep kissing we might end up doing more?”

“Oh, um,” Felix says, “hadn’t thought of that?”

“That’s okay—I’m content with just kissing.” 

Felix considers for a moment, “Just a few more minutes, then bed?” 

“Yeah, you wanna sleep here?” 

Felix nods. 

Sylvain brushes his hair behind his ears, “Okay,” he breaths and leans in. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll this is the chapter with smut. First time writer, but long time reader of smut, and wow, it's really hard. Much harder than I anticipated--I literally deceied to read up on it like I was writing a research paper. Anyway, thank you for reading my first ever fanfic, it's been a time.

They settle into Sylvain’s tiny twin bed as best they can—Sylvain’s back pressed into the wall and Felix’s back against his chest, their legs curled together. “You have enough space?” Felix mumbles. 

“Um, not really? But I think I’ll manage.” 

“I can move a little closer to the edge—“

“No—“ Sylvain says as he gathers his arms around Felix’s midsection. “I don’t want you to fall off.” 

“I’m not gonna fall off, Syl.” 

“Yeah, cause I’ve got you.” Sylvain chuckles and pulls Felix as tight and close as he can. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Felix replies, but there’s no harshness in his tone. He moves one of Sylvain’s arms between both of his and clutches it to his chest. “I’ve missed this so much.” 

Sylvain smiles into Felix’s hair, “You mean like when we slept together as kids?” It surprises him how easy it feels to sink back into the shape of that other time when they could confide and share things with each other, rely fully on each other. 

“That and being with when you don’t have your mask on.” 

It stings a bit, to hear Felix admit so easily that he had noticed Sylvain’s facade. “I’m sorry. I pulled back from you when I shouldn’t have.” 

“No,” Felix releases his arm and shuffles with great effort to turn around and face Sylvain, “I pulled away too.” 

“Are you sure I didn’t push you? With how I was? Off chasing—“ 

“You didn’t know how I felt,” Felix cuts him off. “You didn’t know that I liked you.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know,” Sylvain sighs, “but I knew how I felt, and I should have, I don’t know, fought harder? Or something?”

“Sylvain,” Felix pulls a hand to cup his face gently, “I don’t care about your idiot mistakes, okay? We can’t change how we handled things in the past. Let’s focus on handling our emotions better now.” 

“I fucking love you.” 

“Also, you absolutely wreak of sweat, perfume, and alcohol.” Felix smiles softly, “but I love you too.” 

“We steamed but didn’t actually bathe.” Sylvain groans into the top of Felix’s head. “Goddess I’m such an idiot. Allow me to formally apologize to your sensitive nose.” He sighs, “I feel I should also mention that I am not and was not truly intoxicated this evening.” 

“I’m sure the punch was sobering enough in any case.” Felix laughs and then clears his throat, “But really, I don’t care about what happened before, Syl, so I won’t tease you any more about it.” 

“And I know we said we were going to bed soon, but I do wish I had actually bathed.” 

“Hmm,” Felix hums, flopping over and onto his back, “there’s always the fishing pond?” 

“Felix,” Sylvain cries with faux indigence, “swimming in the fish pond is not permitted. And,” he finishes after a moment, “nor is it particularly cleanly.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you were a thoroughly un-fun person.” 

“What? I’m fun Felix! It’s just, I’d actually like to wash properly. Start afresh.” 

Felix laughs, “Born again Sylvain.” 

“Shut up.” Sylvain smiles, “Is it really so late we have to resort to using the fish pond?” 

“No,” Felix says, turning toward Sylvain again, “I’m just teasing you.” 

“I know,” he replies fondly. Sylvain just looks at Felix happily for a few moments, tracing his features with his eyes. “Did you wanna come with?”

“Duh, I’m sweaty from earlier too.” 

“Just making sure, Fe, I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to get you naked or have ulterior motives or something.”

“Why would I think that? I suggested swimming.” 

“I know but…”

“And I want you to have _some_ ulterior motives,” Felix says quickly. Sylvain watches as Felix’s face turns deep red. 

“Oh, um, right, well,” Sylvain stumbles on his words. 

“Don’t?” Felix asks, “Don’t you want to though? Um…see me naked l-l-like that?”

“Yes!” Sylvain feels his face heat up, he must look so ridiculously red, “I mean, uh, only if you’re okay with it. And I—I don’t want to rush into things, you know? I would understand if you’re uncomfortable or still feeling overwhelmed or needs some time or—” 

“I’m not a fragile thing, Sylvain. You’re not going to break me,” Felix sighs, “I feel like you’re verging on infantilizing me.” 

“I’m not, I swear! I just really don’t want to mess this up.” 

“Then don’t hide what you’re thinking! I want to know—I want you to be honest.” 

“Fe, please don’t misunderstand. I am trying to be respectful and considerate.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” Sylvain says, reaching for Felix, “I want you, however, you’ll let me, whenever you’ll let me.” Felix lets out a gasp as Sylvain pulls him into a gentle kiss.

“Lets,” Felix says in stilted breaths against Sylvain’s lips, “Take. A bath. Already.” 

~

Sylvain can’t believe they didn’t just bathe when they were at the sauna a mere hour ago as they practically run along the stone path in front of the dormitory buildings. _Guess we’re both a little too preoccupied._ “It’s a race,” Felix whisper-shouted the moment they had left the dorm. 

Felix is winning, obviously, but only by a hair. It’s completely dark now except for the moon, but the campus isn’t as still as it was when they initially walked back from the sauna. Sylvain caught a glimpse of Ingrid and Raphael walking out of the dining hall, undoubtedly with their after-dinner snacks, as he and Felix barreled past. And Bernadetta let out a startled gasp as she had taken a single step out of her room, only to be met with the wild blur of their running forms. 

When they reached the staircase to the upper level of the front dorms, Felix turns around to look at Sylvain. “Pick up the pace Gautier, or there won’t be any hot water left,” he barks out his playful taunt before blindly stumbling into Linhardt and Caspar descending the stairs behind him. 

“Hey watch out!” Caspar says, catching Felix’s shoulders and keeping him from falling into the stones. 

Felix visibly startles at his touch, tensing up. 

“Needlessly dangerous,” Linhardt snorts, “to ascend the stairs backward.” 

“Our bad,” Sylvain says, lightly pulling Felix from Caspar. “Should’ve been paying more attention!” 

“It’s okay!” Casper replies companionably, “No one got hurt.” 

Linhardt yawns and places a hand on Caspar, “Since we were delayed, carry me the rest of the way.”

“What?” Caspar says indignantly, “You are a meter from your room!” 

“Then carry me,” Linhardt reaffirms and leans fully into Caspar, “to your room.” 

“Lin! That’s too far! And upstairs!” Caspar is agog, but Linhardt goes practically boneless against the other boy, “I-I-I can’t believe you’re serious—”

“Now you’re causing a scene, Caspar.” 

“I’m what? For the love of goddess—“

Sylvain doesn’t wait around to hear the rest of their argument. He laughs and raises his eyebrows at Felix before pulling him past the duo. “Hey, Fe, you okay?” Sylvain whispers into Felix’s neck when he notices Felix had yet to react. 

Felix nods and shifts his hand into Sylvain’s. “I was just startled, that’s all.” 

As they climb to the second level, Sylvain spots Lysithea, Ignatz, and Dorothea standing around the doorway of Professor Byleth’s room. “Here comes trouble,” Sylvain says and squeezes Felix’s hand, waiting to see if he wants to let go. 

He doesn’t. Felix turns his gaze towards his classmates and shakes his head, “You’re more trouble then all of them combined.” 

“Hey!” Sylvain barks, “That’s not fair.” 

This much catch the group’s attention because Dorothea calls out to them, “There’s the slacker.” She leans against one of the stone pillars, smirking, “I see Felix managed to find you after all.” 

“Would you believe he found me first?” Felix laughs. 

“In my defense, I had no idea we were supposed to be training today.” 

Lysithea cocks her head toward them and folds her arm over her chest, “You’d have known if you paid even a modicum of attention to the schedule.” 

“Lysithea!” Ignatz says sharply, “Professor only posted the updated version after class.” 

She rolls her eyes, “And he literally announced it after the lecture.” 

Byleth moves out the interior to join his students outside as Felix and Sylvain reach the steps up to the porch that leads into his room. “Sylvain, Felix—good timing,” he says in his flat voice, “I was just telling everyone that we will have training again tomorrow afternoon. Same time. I expect to see you both there.” 

Felix nods. Sylvain smiles, “Of course Professor! Sorry about missing tonight—it won’t happen again.” 

“Good to hear,” Byleth replies, nodding. “Ignatz, I know you just got back from your excursion, but would you mind speaking to me for a few moments?” 

“Oh! Of course Professor!” 

Byleth nods and gestures into his room. “Good night professor!” Lysithea exclaims, “Ignatz,” then turns to nod at the rest of them, “Dorothea, Felix, Sylvain.” 

“Yes, good night all,” Dorothea says, smirking at Sylvain. 

“Good night!” Ignatz calls as he walks into Byleth’s room. 

Byleth thrusts his head into the doorway to give them all a nod, “Farewell,” before pulling it abruptly back inside. 

Felix lifts one hand in a small wave as Sylvain laughs out, “Good night everyone.” Felix’s other hand is still in his and he gives it a small tug, urging him forward. 

Dorothea pushes off the column and angles toward Sylvain and Felix. “Is that why you were so flustered at training tonight, Felix? Couldn’t wait to hold hands with Sylvie?” 

Sylvain pulls their intertwined hands behind him defensively, “Dorothea—“ he begins, voice straining. 

“Oh leave them be, Dorothy,” Lysithea rolls her eyes as she pushes past her on the porch. “Boys are allowed to be close with their friends just like girls are.”

“And boys are allowed to be more than friends with other boys, just like girls are allowed to be with other girls,” Dorothea smiles widely. 

“I know that too,” Lysithea’s face turns bright red, contrasting her white hair. 

“Uh-huh,” Dorothea turns all of her attention to the younger girl, “I’ve seen you making eyes at Edie.” 

“Huh? Edelgard? I haven’t been making _eyes_ at her! I admire her, sure, but” Lysithea fumes, “I think you’re projecting!” 

Felix pulls Sylvain this time, “Let’s go,” Felix whispers and Sylvain nods. 

When they are out of earshot Sylvain whispers, “I thought Thea had a thing of Ingrid?” 

“Um, I’m pretty sure Ingrid killed that. Last I heard Dorothea was going after Petra.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, pretty sure Ingrid is straight.” 

Sylvain shrugs, “Her loss.” 

“People can’t control their sexuality, Sylvain.” 

“I know! I just thought they’d make a cute couple, that’s all.” 

Felix huffs and pulls him along faster. 

“And, uh, Fe?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you want…? Um, rather, if we hadn’t gotten away from Dorothea and Lysithea back there what should I have said?” 

Felix continues right back up with bathhouse stairs, “I—I think we have to be concerned about it getting back to your parents? But other than that I don’t know.” 

Sylvain yanks Felix into a halt, “Hey, Fe, we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

Felix smiles softly, “Yeah.” 

_

_Taking a bath with Felix is normal_ , Sylvain reminds himself as they enter the bathhouse’s small changing area, but the air felt charged between them as they caught each other stealing occasional glances as they undressed. _No one is going to know anything is different_. Sylvain repeats it in his head over and over, but he can’t decide if he wants it to be true or not. There’s something undeniably good about people knowing. He steals a final glance at Felix’s lithe body, following the long lines of his legs and arms. When his eyes flicker towards Felix’s face, Sylvain sees that he’s already looking back at him, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvain’s absolutely sure he’s tomato red, redder than his hair, and Felix is uncharacteristically nervous as he twists his arms in front of him again and again. 

“Shall we?” Sylvain tries his best to sound confident and nonchalant like he isn’t going to shake apart with giddiness at any moment.

Felix only nods. 

They were completely nude now, save for the bathhouse towels wrapped around their hips as they walk into the bathing chamber. The bathing portion of the bathhouse is a long stone room with two deep pools, one warm and the other cold, and carved wooden benches along the edges. Each bench is stocked with metal strigils for scraping, natural sponges, and all manner of oils and perfumes one might wish to apply. Surprisingly, they find they aren’t alone. 

A disgruntled looking Hubert von Vestra is tucked into the far corner of the cold pool. Sylvain gives a little wave of acknowledgment before settling into the warm water pool. “It’s late,” Hubert calls out stiffly. 

Felix, who had gotten into the warm pool without so much as a glance at Hubert scoffs, “You’re here, aren’t you?” 

Sylvain couldn’t suppress a nervous chuckle, which echoes harshly in the open bath chamber. Felix reaches out of the pool to grab a strigil from a bench before pushing himself to sit on the ledge. Hubert watches them, his eyes little daggers digging into Sylvain’s head. “This is awkward,” Sylvain whispers to Felix. 

Felix looks at Sylvain and shrugs before turning his attention to scraping his arms and legs with the strigil. Sylvain sighs and fully immerses himself into the water. When he surfaces, he turns his head to see of Hubert if still watching them. He is. 

Hubert looks stiff in the other bath. Completely unmoving and unblinking, as Felix continues his bathing routine. Sylvain decides he should ignore Hubert. _Maybe the guy is just embarrassed?_

Sylvain pulls himself out of the warm pool and grabs some pine-scented oils from the closest bench. “Hey, Fe, you want me to get your back?” 

Felix hums an ascent as Sylvain kneels down behind him. Then, in a loud crash of water, Hubert von Vestra is exiting the cold pool. Sylvain and Felix look up, startled as Hubert grabs the towel on the bench behind him in a swift motion, moving it to cover his arms rather than his groin. 

Just barely, Sylvain thinks he makes out a dark bruise that seems to run up Hubert’s forearms. But in a flash, his arms are covered from Sylvain’s sight as Hubert runs out of the bathhouse. 

“Huh,” Sylvain snorts, “guess he’s really private.” 

Felix huffs a soft laugh, “Yeah, seems so.” 

“Well, at least now I get to oil you up in private.” 

“Is that an innuendo?” 

“Yes and no,” Sylvain laughs and then presses his face closer to Felix’s ear. “Mostly I want to get cleaned and out of here so we can snuggle up in my bed.” 

Felix nods, “That’s a sound plan. Now, are you going to get my back or not?”

“On it!” Sylvain replies dutifully.

~

Despite their best efforts to be quick, it’s terribly late as they walk back to their dormitory. The night air is cold and there’s no trace of anyone else still awake on the grounds monastery. Felix is dragging Sylvain at a brisk pace, their fingers intertwined. “Come on!” 

“I am, I am,” Sylvain huffs, “It’s just cold!”

“More reason to move swiftly!” Felix shoots a grin back and Sylvain. His grin is so beautifully illuminated in the pale moonlight, his hair loosely tied behind his neck and still damp from the bath. Sylvain wants to kiss him all over again. 

Instead, Sylvain shakes his head and quickens his pace, knocking into Felix playfully as they round the corner between the Greenhouse and the upper dormitory stairs. He crowds against Felix’s back as he pushes in the door, placing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Hey! Be good!” Felix yelps, “Wait until we’re inside at least.” 

“I’m being good.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m being really, really good,” Sylvain says, sliding his arms around Felix’s middle. 

“Okay, okay,” Felix laughs, pulling them both onto the staircase. It’s very clumsy, and awkward for Felix to pull Sylvain, who has a few inches and pounds on him, in this way, but he manages to make it a few steps before giving up, “Are you going to let go of me?”

“No,” Sylvain replies, smirking, but shifts his arms around Felix’s shoulders so they can move more easily. 

“There’s a word for what you are,” Felix whispers as they slink down the hallway, half-pressed together. 

“Hmm?” Sylvain presses another kiss into Felix’s neck, dragging his mouth up to the shell of his ear. 

“I’ll—I’ll think of it,” Felix stutters, reaching for Sylvain’s door and pushing it open. 

“Aren’t you glad my room’s at the end of the hall?”

“Yeah, but it’s over Professor Byleth’s. And shares a wall with the boar.” 

“So does yours. Besides, he sleeps like the dead,” Sylvain whispers as they stumble into the room, “I think anyway? And the professor would never say anything.” Sylvain doesn’t wait for Felix’s reply as he grabs Felix’s hips and pulls them flush with his own. 

Felix yowls at the sudden contact. “What happened to doing things however I wanted?” He cranes his head around to glare at Sylvain who immediately lets him go. 

“I, I, I didn’t mean to—I thought we were—“ 

It’s Sylvain’s turn to squawk as Felix presses him into his own door, “That’s better,” Felix whispers as he presses his mouth to Sylvain’s. 

Sylvain wraps his arms back around Felix’s waist, pulling him up onto his tiptoes. Felix presses his hands into Sylvain’s hair and gently tugs. Then, Felix slowly slides a hand down over Sylvain’s neck, then his chest, sweeping lower and lower between them. Sylvain gasps softly against Felix’s throat, “Fe.”

“Mmm?” His hand pauses on Sylvain’s hip. 

“I, I like your initiative, but I want to make sure—“

“Can I?” Felix murmurs, looking up at Sylvain’s face, “Would you let me?” 

“Anything you want,” Sylvain breaths out. 

“There are a lot of things I want,” Felix replied in a harsh, low voice. He turns his gaze to the clasps of Sylvain’s trousers, ghosting his fingers closer. 

Sylvain takes Felix’s wandering hand and presses it firmly to his chest over his heart so that they both can feel how it hammers. Felix slowly looks up toward Sylvain’s face, gaze lingering on his nose. “Me too, Fe, and we have all the time to…” 

Sylvain’s words evaporate as Felix's lips turn up into a soft shape and his amber eyes finally lock with his own deep brown ones, “I know. But I think I have at least one thing figured out.” 

“Oh? And what is that?” 

Felix’s smile widens into a playful grin as he takes a step back into further into the room, dragging Sylvain with him. “Come lay down first.” 

“O-okay,” Sylvain stutters as he feels his entire face flush up again. Everything feels dreamlike, a surreal blur of reality as he staggers forward toward the other. Felix’s face is framed by his long blue-black hair, now fully undone, and his eyes seem to gleam in the half-light of the moon streaming in from the window. He’s bewitched. 

Sylvain pushes himself onto his bed, reclining into the pillows as he looks at Felix, transfixed as he undoes his white uniform shirt. “Do you want to take off yours too? Or do you need help?” Felix asks, still grinning. 

“I—I can do it.” Sylvain’s hands jump clumsily to his own shirt, but his eyes remain on Felix, who moves to undo his boots. “Goddess, I—maybe I do need help,” he huffs as he realizes he’s made poor progress on his own undressing. 

Felix shoves his boots off to the side as he steps closer to Sylvain. “Are you always this useless?” 

“N-no,” Sylvain breaths out, reaching hungrily to press his hand onto Felix’s newly bare chest, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous.” 

“Nervous? Why?” some worry creeping into Felix’s voice as he asks. 

Sylvain pulls Felix onto the bed so he can straddle him, “Uh, I really, really like you? And I don’t want to mess anything up?” 

Felix huffs a laugh, “You’re ridiculous. How could you possibly mess up?” As he straddles Sylvain’s hips, Felix begins to undo Sylvain’s uniform shirt. 

“I don’t know, I never really thought about it too much before,” Sylvain replies. Felix has finished unbuttoning him, so he shifts to slide the shirt off. 

Felix smiles at him as he pushes his hand through Sylvain’s hair, brushing his bangs off of his face, “Well, I think I have a solution for that too.” 

“Oh?” 

“I don’t want to mess up either, obviously, and I’ve never really done anything remotely like this before.” 

“I know, and it’s completely fine!” 

“Let me finish,” Felix laughs, “I am a bit worried if we do too much at once it could be overstimulating for me.” 

Sylvain nods. 

“So it would be helpful, I think, to do one thing at a time.” Felix moves his hand from Sylvain’s hair and rests them on his chest. “And, I think the most reasonable option in this cause would be for me to, uh, take the lead.” 

Sylvain brushes his hands over Felix’s, which remain on his chest. “That works for me, but I do want to know how ‘one thing’ it needs to be?” 

“I mean, “ Felix switches the position of their hands, pressing firmly into his wrists so that Sylvain’s arms are trapped between them, “you can’t touch me.” 

Sylvain whines, shaking his head before he sighs. “Okay, okay, I can do that. It’s gonna be hard though. I wanna touch you.” 

Felix nods, “I understand, but I know you can be really very good. You can do anything you put your mind to.” He takes Sylvain’s wrists and places them above his head, resting them on the pillows, and Sylvain feels himself grow start to hard in his trousers. “You can keep them here, and when you want to touch me, squeeze the pillow instead.” 

“Okay, but what are you going to do?” 

“I was thinking I could touch you,” he raises his hands and wiggles his fingers and grins, “with these.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain smiles, “where though?” 

Felix smirks back, “Any place you want.” 

“I get to say?” 

“Well, you get to ask,” Felix corrects, and Sylvain’s dick twitches with interest again as he briefly images Felix telling him what he can and can’t have. 

“I like that,” Sylvain confirms. 

“And then, I also thought, I might touch you with this too,” Felix says, touching a finger to his lips. 

Sylvain nods vigorously, “Yeah, yeah, yes. Please.” 

“Okay,” Felix turns his eyes to Sylvain’s torso, “what first?” 

“Touch my chest again?” Sylvain asks, watching Felix’s fingers intently. “You could, uh, I mean, the nipples are sensitive.” 

Felix nods and runs both of his hands over Sylvain’s chest, first caressing his collarbone, then moving down to the pectoral muscle. Then he brushes a finger lightly across one of Sylvain’s nipples. “Like this?” He asks, circling the areola. 

Sylvain’s breath hitches ever so slightly, “Yeah,” he breaths out. “You can—you can be a little less gentle.” 

Felix presses slightly harder, beginning to trace his fingers over both nipples in a circular pattern. Then, he gently squeezes, pinching one nipple between two fingers. 

Sylvain exhales a small gasp, “Like that.” 

Felix does it again, pressing ever so slightly firmer as he moves his head closer to Sylvain’s chest. “I can use my mouth too, right?” Felix’s breath is so close, it makes him shiver. 

“Y-yeah,” Sylvain sighs, and Felix begins to lap his tongue over Sylvain’s nipple. Sylvain, who is still dutifully keeping his hands to himself, interlocks his hands together and sighs into Felix’s ministrations. 

Felix uses his other hand to begin circling and pressing into Sylvain’s neglected nipple, keeping his mouth on the first one. He teases the nip lightly with his teeth, tugging it gently. 

Sylvain groans out in pleasure, “Perfect, you’re so perfect, Fe.” 

Felix takes his time for what feels like hours, picking Sylvain apart, focusing on his chest and neck. He presses open-mouthed kisses into the curve of Sylvain’s neck, breaths into the shell of his ear, tugs on an earlobe, runs his hands over every exposed bit of flesh he can find, with his mouth closely following until he has Sylvain leaking in his smalls. Sylvain is sure it must all be a dream. No one has ever paid his body this much attention, no one has pressed and prodded every place just to learn what will make him come undone. He feels closer to madness with every caress, lick, and stroke. 

Sylvain wants badly to touch and kiss back, to run his fingers just as greedily all over Felix, but he doesn’t. He grabs at the pillows above his head or anxiously claps his hands together, thinking only of the pleasure Felix wrings out of him. 

“Fe,” Sylvain chokes out, gasping in pleasure as little tears form in his eyes, “I-I’m not sure how much more I can take.” 

Felix sits up, removing his hands and mouth from where they had returned to play at Sylvain’s chest. “Hmm? You want me to touch someplace else?” 

“W-would you?” Sylvain replies in his lust broken voice. 

“Use your words, Syl, you have to ask.” 

_The bastard,_ Sylvain thinks to himself _, he wants me to die right here_. “Y-you know where please Fe?” 

“But I can’t read your mind, Syl. I need you to be very specific.” 

“T-touch me—p-please t-touch my cock?” Sylvain stutters over the words, embarrassed to be brought this far with teasing alone. 

Felix hums, resting his hands lightly on Sylvain’s abdomen. “You really have been very well behaved,” he replies, tracing the lines of Sylvain’s abs, “keeping your hands to yourself, using your words…I suppose we can move on now.” 

“Please, Felix, please,” Sylvain whimpers as Felix shuffles further down his legs and brings a hand down to brush over the front of Sylvain’s trousers. 

Then, Felix carefully undoes the claps of Sylvain’s trousers, and shucks them firmly down his thighs, leaving his briefs exposed. “You’re leaking,” Felix marvels, running finger down Sylvain’s clothed shaft. 

Sylvain nods, barely coherent. He can’t believe this is actually happening. He forces himself to turn every modicum of his attention to the point of contact between himself and Felix. He watches with half-lidded eyes, hands wringing together above his head, as Felix pulls down his briefs. 

Sylvain gasps at the rush of cool air as his dick springs free. “Tell me what you want,” Felix says evenly, looking up at how Sylvain writhes before him. 

“T-touch me? A-any way you want,” he breaths out a hushed response. 

“I said tell me, Syl,” Felix replies, “Tell me how you like it.” 

“Goddess,” Sylvain whispers, “you’re gonna kill me, you’re really gonna kill me.” 

“With pleasure?” Felix asks. 

Sylvain nods. 

“I’m not even touching you right now.” 

“It’s how you’re doing this!” Sylvain cries, “You’re so authoritative and attentive. It’s fucking sexy, Fe. You’re so perfect, you don’t even know.” 

Felix blushes, putting a hand over his mouth, “I’m glad this is working for you then,” he murmurs. 

“It is, it really is.” Sylvain twists his hands together again, “But it’s really hard not to touch back. 

Felix nods thoughtfully and brings his hand off of his mouth to pat Sylvain’s shoulder. “Sit up more, okay?” 

“Okay,” Sylvain replies, scooting himself up to more sitting than reclining. 

“You can put your hands down now.” 

He does and brings them to rest at his sides. 

“I’ll let you touch me, but just in one place okay? Think you can do that?” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain whispers. 

“You can hold my hair,” Felix smirks and gathers his hands into his hair to form a ponytail, “like this.” 

Sylvain nods greedily, “Yes please.” 

Felix lets his hair go and moves so his head and hands are hovering over Sylvain’s groin. Sylvain gently gathers Felix’s hair into his hands, tucking all the strands together into a firm grip. “Don’t pull too tightly,” Felix reminds him, mouth so close that he can feel Felix’s hot breath on his cock. 

“I got it, I can be good.” 

“I know you can. What should I do first?” 

“You should make your hand wet first,” Sylvain says, imaging Felix shoving his fingers into his mouth so Sylvain could suck on them. 

Felix nods peaking up at Sylvain, then licks the length of his own hand, coating it in silva. Admittedly not what he expected, but Sylvain thinks there’s something hot about it anyway. “How tight do you like it?” 

Sylvain groans in anticipation, “I—uh—a little firm? I think?” 

Felix wraps three fingers over Sylvain’s shaft and focuses his gaze. “I’m going to to use my mouth too,” his says and the feeling of his breath makes Sylvain shutter. 

Sylvain nods, not that Felix is looking at his face. Felix begins stroking the length of the shaft, twisting his wrist. It’s the right amount of pressure for Sylvain, especially as Felix’s breath gets closer and closer to his cock. 

Then, Felix’s tongue is lapping at the head, teasing him. Felix hums and shifts his face up a bit to look at Sylvain’s face, “It’s salty, kind of bitter?” 

“Is-is that okay?” 

Felix's expression shifts into something coy as he turns back to Sylvain’s cock. He loosens his hold on Sylvain’s shaft and runs his tongue from base to tip before tightening. 

“Fuck, Fe, please,” Sylvain whines, not really sure what he’s asking for as he grips Felix’s hair firmer in his hand. 

Felix seems to know though, as he takes Sylvain into his mouth, keeping his and wrapped around the base, twisting. His mouth is so hot and wet, Sylvain tugs at Felix’s hair harder. Felix hums in acknowledgment, then he presses his tongue flat to the head before beginning to roll it around. Felix moves his mouth in tandem with his hand that remains twisting at the base, his saliva dripping down from his mouth, keeping Sylvain lubricated. 

Felix’s tongue sweeps to lap over his frenulum, making Sylvain moan. “Yeah, just like that, perfect. You’re perfect.” Felix hums, sucking in his cheeks as he continues to lick at the frenulum. 

Then, he moves his free hand, which he had been using to prop himself up over Sylvain’s groin, to cup his balls, before shifting his hand to stroke gently at the perineum. 

Sylvain makes an incoherent cry of pleasure, far louder than he intended, and pulls Felix by the hair off of his cock. 

“W-what?” Felix stutters out, “Did I do something wr—“ 

Sylvain doesn’t reply, pulling Felix’s mouth flush with his and pushing his tongue into his mouth. When they separate a string of saliva hangs between them. 

“S-sorry I pulled your hair like that, but goddess damn it, fuck, Fe, how are you so incredible?” 

Felix flushes, “I’ve read a fair number of novels.” 

“Adorable.” Sylvain leans in to kiss him again but Felix pushes back. 

“Let me get back to work,” Felix says darkly, running his hand down Sylvain’s chest. 

“Please,” Sylvain agrees, settling back a bit into the pillows, “Sorry for interrupting your h-hard w—“ 

Sylvain struggles to finish his sentence, as Felix takes Sylvain as far into his mouth as he can, attempting to swallow him. 

“Careful,” Sylvain chokes out, but it’s too late. Felix chokes a bit and pulls off. 

“That’s harder than I thought, sorry.” 

Sylvain smiles, brushing a stray hair behind Felix’s ear. “You’re still amazing. Best blow job of my life.” 

“I’m not finished,” Felix frowns. 

“I know, but won’t you let me touch you too?”

“But—“ 

“Felix, please? I really really want to.” 

“I—“ Felix turns his face to the wall, blushing harder, “Tell me what you want to do.”

“I don’t want you to get overstimulated,” Sylvain begins and Felix nods, “so my idea is to try frotting. It’s when you rub your dicks together? And I could hold them, but then that’s the only point of contact. Does that sound, uh?” 

Felix nods. “I think I can do that.” 

“Okay great. Um, take off your trousers?” Sylvain replies as he swings an arm to his bedside table and blindly grabs around in the draw.

Felix shuffles of the bed and shucks off his trousers and then his smalls in quick succession. Sylvain feels his mouth start to water as he casts his eyes over Felix’s nude form. Sylvain gulps, and his hand finds what he was looking for—a vial of oil. “Okay,” he says as he returns to straddle Sylvain’s lap. “But tell me what you’re going to do before you do it.”

“Sure, like narrate it?” 

“Yeah, please, so I can mentally prepare.” 

“Okay, so um, can you scoot a little closer?” 

Felix complies, shifting his body closer so their cocks are centimeters away. Sylvain brings the vial of oil between them and uncorks it.

“And then I’m going to coat my hand with this.” 

Felix nods. 

Sylvain pours some of the oil out onto his outstretched palm, “And then I’ll coat myself? Then you?” 

“O-okay.” 

“Okay?” Sylvain confirms. 

“I said so!” Felix huffs, embarrassed. 

“Just making sure,” Sylvain hums and wraps his oiled hand briefly over his dick. The oil is warm and smooth. “Now I’ll—“

“Yes, do it,” Felix barks. 

Sylvain moves a tentative hand over Felix’s cock, swiping the oil over the head and shaft. 

Felix sighs with pleasure. “It’s different,” he replies, voice sounding a little hazy. 

“Different bad?”

“Different good,” Felix gasps as Sylvain applies a bit more pressure, twisting his wrist just as Felix had done. 

“Ah, I want to touch you,” Sylvain whines. 

“You are, idiot!”

“No, I mean all of you, like you did for me. Wanna worship you.” 

Felix whimpers, but shakes his head, “This, this is good. This is what I want.” 

Sylvain nods, “Okay, can I? Can I add in mine now?”

“Yes,” Felix breathes out hard, already panting and Sylvain wraps his hand around them both. 

The oil allows him to glide around them perfectly, pressing with perfect frictions as they begin to rut together. Felix’s arms shoot out to brace himself against Sylvain’s chest. 

“F-fuck, Fe, is good?” 

“Y-yeah,” Felix stutters out, leaning over to rest his forehead on Sylvain’s neck. 

Sylvain glides and twists, milking them together, driving them both closer to the edge. 

“Ah, I, I think, I’m gonna,” Sylvain chokes out into Felix’s ear. 

“M-me too,” Felix breaths, shift to press their foreheads together. 

Sylvain feels Felix quiver in his lap as he cums over Sylvain’s hand. The sensation is enough to push Sylvain over, and he strokes them loosely through completion as they pant into each other’s mouths. 

“That was amazing,” Sylvain whispers after a long moment, Felix’s forehead still resting on his own. 

“Shut up,” Felix says, lifting himself off of Sylvain, “Although, yes. I did really like that.” 

“I fucking love you.” 

“Let’s get cleaned up, idiot,” Felix scoffs. 

“You know I do!”

Felix lifts his head to lock eyes with Sylvain again, “I know you do.” 


End file.
